


A Case Of Identity

by Bre_ath



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom John, John Watson's Blog, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Top Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-24
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:27:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre_ath/pseuds/Bre_ath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock takes John out to The Strand. A pub not far from 221b Baker Street in a so called "celebration" of John and Mary's divorce.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Case Of Identity

**Author's Note:**

> SO. This is my first post so please be gentle with me. Any openly negative comments will be promptly ignored however constructive criticism is much appreciated. Also thank you so much for reading my story. I super appreciate it!
> 
>  
> 
> "Love, love and love will love you."

We stopped. I looked over at my companion with curiosity. He smiled at me and unfolded his tall figure out of the cab and, as always, I followed. It was only a couple of blocks away from the flat, a small brick building with a hinged sign protruding from the side, swinging in and out of the dull lamp light.

“The Strand?” again he smiled at me. “I realize your weeks have been…” looking at my fallen expression he hesitated scrunching his nose slightly “exhausting.”

I took a breath. As much as I appreciated his cautious wording I would’ve appreciated it further if the subject hadn’t surfaced at all.

“I thought it was high time we had a bit of fun.”

“Fun?!” I managed to sputter raising an eyebrow in his direction   
“Sherlock this isn’t your definition of fun.” 

“I realize that. However it is a common practice to celebrate ones new found freedom through drink…and this was the closest to home.” 

I glared at the sidewalk and shoved my hands roughly into my pockets. I didn’t want to celebrate my “freedom”. I didn’t see it that way at all. As we walked into the shockingly quiet pub my hand wandered to the finger my ring use to sit on. Empty. I grinned with cynicism. Celebrate? I felt it best if we drank over my loss more than anything. Looking up from my hand I saw Sherlock’s eyes darting around the room. Strategizing and calculating which would be the most optimal seating for our “celebration” I suppose. Eventually he strode towards a table towards the back of the pub. Uncharacteristic of him.

“This isn’t like your kind.” I said clearing my throat slightly. 

“It’s not?” He tilted his head slightly at me, “Doctor, I am surprised at you. This table is positioned perfectly.”

I knew I’d regret saying it, “Elaborate.” 

His eyes seemingly lit up and a small smirk cracked across his lips at my comment. “This table in particular is approximately 45 degrees in correlation to the bathroom, protracted opposite it is 90 degrees from the door, and in direct walking path of most waiting staff as well as a straight walk to the bar if service becomes particularly slow`` 

``Are you assuming I am going to be drunk enough to need all of these precautions?” 

A look appeared in his eyes I had never seen before. It was a sort of…hopeful look but disappeared almost as fast as it had arrived. He quickly replaced with a smile, a devious and curious half smile, not splashed with the usual innocent gaze. Instead it was dripping with intensity. I shifted, breaking the stare. That look. I always knew that Sherlock was an attractive man and I did my best to try and hide my stare, but on occasion he would catch me and lately he caught me a lot. It seemed every chance they got my eyes wandered in his direction, roving over his form, my head always tilting slightly to the right. Sherlock rose from his seat and walked to the bar. I suppose it had been a while since we took our seats. Glancing up I watched him travel to the bar and awkwardly order two beers. It’s astonishing that a man with such talent could be so socially inept. It was also astonishing how his shoulders sat perfectly beneath his shirt and how his pants formed perfectly around his waist, butt, and thighs. A sigh escaped my lips while he reclaimed his seat.

“What no test tubes or measuring cups? I’m surprised at you, Sherlock.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t have made a difference considering, the last time it happened, you snuck shots and god knows what else while I wasn’t looking. The data wouldn’t have been accurate anyways.”

It was my turn to grin and from there the night progressed and our glasses emptied at a steady pace.

“Ok, closing time boys” the bartender motioned over to us.

“AHA! See! Tell that excuse of a detective Gavin we can make it to closing time!” 

“Sherlock for the hundredth time his name is Greg!”

We sat, silent for a moment followed by a laughing outburst. Wiping tears from my face, Sherlock staggered up from his sitting position. 

“Lets go home, John,” he slurred pulling on his jacket with difficulty. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~   
The door slammed open and Sherlock leaned against me. 

“Carry me to bed, John” 

“Carry yourself you git.” I said laughing at his inability to walk.

“you know I wasn’t aware that you liked wheat beer”, Sherlock stumbled towards me as the door closed with a bang. He leaned excruciatingly close to me backing me into the door in my inebriated state. 

“And how pray tell do you know its wheat beer I drank? I could’ve just drank something else while you weren’t looking.” I gulped at his advancement. I wanted to push him away but my body responded differently. 

“I know its made with wheat because of the way the hops smell on your breath.”   
His words fogged together as he leaned closer to whisper them against my neck. I glanced in his silvery shimmering eyes and couldn’t muster the strength to pull away. He leaned closer pressing me further into the door our breath meeting in mid air as he placed his arm beside me completely blocking any escape I could have dreamed of. My body ached in a familiar thump as my hand reached up to his face awkwardly shoving it between the non-existent gap between us reaching up to his face. At first our lips just touched. Then they opened and closed in unison slowly matching each others rhythm. Speeding up, our tongues began to meet in the gap escalating to shoving them against each other drunkenly, trying to find their way around. For a moment we stopped and just stared at one another, faces flushed and bodies pressed together.

“upstairs.” Sherlock motioned. 

I led the way. I stumbled slightly, his hand met my waist guiding me protectively the rest of the way, making sure to follow closely. 

“you sure feel experienced for a man claiming not to be interested in relationships or…people…” his hands traveled upwards through my now un-tucked shirt. The warmth of him behind me made my skin raise in bumps.

“That doesn’t mean I haven’t done my research, or better yet imagined it.” Sherlock whispered against the back of my neck before pressing his lips against my skin tempting my urges. 

“It was for science, John” 

I stripped my jacket off and tossed it into the black abyss of the flat. his hands firmly guided me to the couch. At first he sat above me snogging away and toying with my shirt buttons but as time passed he laid above me, our hands exploring every inch of each others skin we could reach. I undid his shirt buttons and slowly started kissing his chest my hand trailing a path for my lips to touch down his torso. Pushing me down he mimicked my movements all the way down to my trousers which he promptly popped open with his hand. 

“Wait…” I gasped. I wasn’t so sure. 

“I have.” I looked down and his eyes met mine.   
“I have waited for what feels like…like…century’s, John.”

He sat up again and ran his hand through my hair coming closer still. Sherlock’s lips met mine again but it wasn’t lustful or urgent like before. His lips met mine with torment and injury. They were riddled with excruciating distress and when he pulled away the look on his face was one of the deepest affliction.   
“The tribulation of waiting for you is…” his forehead met mine and with the same misery he looked into my eyes . My arms rested around his neck. Running my hand through his dark curls our lips met again. Gently he reached down rubbing the obvious bulge. I made a quiet noise in his mouth and I felt him smirk within our kisses. “off” he whispered pulling at my pants and boxers. 

“Only if you grant me the same loyalty” his hesitation startled me. I cannot describe the relief I felt as he shred his clothing off piece by erotic piece. I loved watching his long poetic fingers., slowly sliding articles from his firm, toned body, and I felt my face get hot. He laid me down again, our excitement rubbing together, his lips pressed against mine. I was so thankful the embrace muffled the small sounds coming from my throat. His hand wandered my skin and reached gently for my firm shaft. 

“shhhhh….” he mumbled, trying to assure me after my flinch. At first it was mild exploratory fumbling to feel all of my length but after a short time his grip tightened and his motions were more direct, jerking his hand up and down. I bit my lip and tried desperately to keep quiet but to no avail. Sounds were escaping my body that I could not control. I tremored as hot liquid dripped down Sherlock’s hand. 

“hmmm… pent up.” he whispered as he licked his hand and to my joyous surprise, my tip and whole length. I covered my face with my hand. I didn’t want him to see me vulnerable like this but I also didn’t want to admit how much I enjoyed it. Much to both my delight and dismay he licked up every single drop. 

“That was…surprising.” he chuckled wiping his mouth, “Now, I wouldn’t mind having a turn”

I gulped. What did he mean by that?   
Sherlock slid his hand underneath one of my legs and pecked my lips. Salty. 

“have you ever participated in…this kind of intercourse, John?” I frowned. Another thing I didn’t want to surface tonight.   
“yeah…” I mustered “But not with…a man…only with…toys…” that bastard smiled.

“another unexpected deduction”

“SHUT UP”

It almost felt normal, here laying with him. He continued smiling and kissed my neck. I slapped a hand over my mouth as his hand traveled up my leg towards my ass, sliding inside me with a finger judging his actions with my reaction. I glanced down. He was dripping at my pleasured sounds. I reached down and touched him gently. Surprised, his expression changed. The more I stroked him the more intently he worked me open, trying desperately to control his pleasure. Finally he hoisted my leg up by my shoulder. 

“WAIT! You cant go in like that…” 

He tilted his head. “I don’t have lubricant if that’s what you mean” I sighed at the length of discussion. 

“I do. |In my jacket there’s a small bottle of hand sanitizer…its not hand sanitizer…”his face split into a gigantic smile. 

“im impressed” he pulled it from my jacket and looked at it in the moonlit room

“genius”

his face split again and he rolled back on top of me spreading the lubricant on himself. I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the view of his pale skin in the moonlight or the delectation of his expression as he pulled his hand over his length. Opening his eyes he leisurely lay upon me forcing my leg up by my shoulder. I felt nervous, I had never taken anything of his size before. At first I felt the head putting pressure against me, then gradually I felt the rest of him slide in, me grimacing the whole time feeling him stretch me open. He looked at me and I at him. The violinist leaned in and I groaned at the pain and pleasure. Kissing me again he began to slide out then pushed gently back in. In the beginning it hurt like a mother and was so uncomfortable I could’ve barfed, but as time passed I felt a pool inside my groin begin to grow.  
“a little harder.” I stammered against him. He pushed harder reaching deeper inside me grabbing my hip and forcing me back into the correct position. My hips thrust downwards in delight and my back arched. 

“uuuuuhhh…” was his response against my neck. He slightly repositioned his arm and continued with a bit more conviction, whispering my name in between sweet but struggled kisses. I felt the tension build until it exploded into unadulterated bliss crying out his name into oblivion, both of us gushing satisfaction all over and into each other. For a moment we just lay there tangled in each other puffing emotion into the air. I looked in his eyes. 

“and how was that?” I managed.

He looked thoughtful for a moment. “surprisingly ok.”


End file.
